Tavern Meeting (Gremma Time Travel Fics)
by diddykongfan
Summary: I asked for prompts for one-page fic; I received one for Emma and Graham to have a tavern meeting during the time travel of 3x21/3x22. It spiraled out of control into two different fics, which will both be split into multiple chapters and published in this collection. Also on tumblr. I quit watching after 3x18, so canon has no real influence here.
1. Version 1, Part 1

prompt from arianakristine.

* * *

**A/N: I quit watching pre-time travel, so literally all my knowledge of Emma's canon tavern scene comes from tumblr and it's all getting tossed out the window here anyway for the Gremma. I also have an inability to write Gremma where they can't be together so… Yeah. That's why there's going to be more parts after this.**

* * *

It's Hook's idea to stop at the tavern for the night. They haven't managed to get any currency, though, and the only deal they can make is if she agrees to wait tables for the night while he deals with any drunks who get too out of hand. She'd much rather do his part of the job than hers – and after all that time dealing with Leroy in Storybrooke, she thinks she's well-equipped for it – but she's not about to argue it. It's a bed for the night either way, and that's certainly better than a forest floor.

She's just leaving the kitchen, a bowl of thick stew in hand – it actually smells pretty good, but after the last time she was stuck here, and had to eat chimera, she's not planning on trying anything that she doesn't know where it came from – when _he_ enters, and the place goes quiet. She's not the only one staring, stunned, but even as the shoelace on her wrist feels like it's turning to lead, she understands that everyone else stares for a different reason. Except for his lack of a helmet, he's dressed like Regina's black knights, the men that they've been avoiding pretty much since they arrived. She _aches_ from the knowledge. His heart is already gone.

When his eyes sweep across the room, she thinks she must be imagining that they linger on her. They haven't even met, yet. He doesn't know her, has no reason to stare.

There is dead silence as he heads to a table, and then one of the other girls is grabbing the stew from Emma's hands and pushing her towards him with a hiss of _you serve the heartless one_. She doesn't quite know how she feels about that, is both excited and terrified, elated to interact with him and afraid of the heartbreak of looking into those beautiful dark blue eyes and getting only a blank look in return.

But when she reaches his table, his look _isn't_ blank. She's not quite sure what the knowledge he's looking at her with _is_, but she sees it's there. She wants to beg him to share it with her, but instead-

"Can I get you anything?" She is playing a part – it _pains_ her to play this part. To pretend- That all she knows of him is some fearsome reputation that everyone else in this crappy place apparently knows – a fearsome reputation that she _doesn't_ know, not really. She'd taken the time to read his parts of Henry's book more carefully than some of the others, longing to know as much as she could about the man she never got the chance to love. But it- It hadn't seemed real. It hadn't seemed like _him._ Even seeing him, here, and how everyone else reacts- It doesn't seem real. She can't see him as some heartless killer. All that plays through her mind is a million tiny moments, those little things that made her fall for him far too hard and fast. Trading jokes and coffee just the way she liked it waiting at her desk in the morning and a hug outside the mines and so many other things. The first time she'd caught herself daydreaming of him and the time she's almost positive she caught _him_ daydreaming about _her_. The way he called her Miss Swan when he was teasing and the way that _Emma_ sounded in that lovely accent. The way he looked at her when-

"The Queen is after you and the pirate," his voice is a whisper, and she almost misses it entirely she's so wrapped up in her memories. _A warning_. He's warning her? But- Why would he do that? She knows what his heart being gone means, he's… He's _controlled_. And she knows that he saved her parents, fought the control for that much. But- She is no one to him. She_should_ be no one to Regina, too, but apparently Hook's past self is off in Wonderland supposedly killing Cora right now and someone had reported seeing this version of him and it was being taken as him ignoring the Queen's orders. Technically, it's a warning that they don't need – but that doesn't mean she's going to wonder any less at it, or be any less grateful for it.

"Why are you warning me?" She's quiet too, not wanting to alert everyone else. Especially not Hook, who appears to be bored by his lack of things to do, and has been watching her for the last twenty minutes at least. He already looks uncomfortable that she's even near Graham, probably something to do with the reason everyone else seems afraid more than anything about the timeline. No need to make it worse by alerting him that anything other than waiting tables is happening.

"Dark One wants you protected. Didn't tell me why, and I didn't ask. But between him and Regina as to who could make me suffer more if they don't get their way- I'd bet on him."

The words are a surprise. The Dark One, that's Gold, she knows, but she didn't think that he even knew they were there – and if he did, didn't think he knew their significance, the fact that they're from the future, that they're anything other than a random woman traveling with the pirate that he hates. But he must know something – otherwise, he wouldn't care at all.

(She finds, with his words about whether Regina or Gold will make him suffer more, she wants to protect him, hide him away from anyone who would hurt him. Almost more than she wants to get home. But that's impossible, which hurts more than she cares to admit. She can't disturb the timeline and he- He has to be cursed with everyone else, or they'll never meet.)

"Actually," his lips quirk into an almost-amused half-smile, "He wants _you_protected. Doesn't care about the pirate."

"I'm not surprised. They don't exactly have the best history." She swallows, trying to hide the fact that she's weak in the knees from that look on his face. She needs to play her part. She can't think about how it felt to kiss him and how long it's been since she last did. "Whiskey?"

He nods his assent to the drink, as she'd guessed he would; it _was_ his drink of choice back home. But as she goes to leave, he catches her wrist, thumb brushing across the bootlace that she keeps for him. The moment is curious, fleeting as he drops it almost as quickly, before the other patrons can catch on and stare. He- Something about this doesn't make sense, and maybe it's just that connection they'd always shared making him act strange, maybe he doesn't understand what's going on either, but- It doesn't quite feel that way. It's more like… More like he actually knows what he's doing, impossible though it sounds.

But she has to play her part, so she pretends that nothing happened and that she hasn't died a little inside to see he's gone before she can even bring him his drink.


	2. Version 1, Part 2

first off, shout out to arianakristine for making my fic cover

* * *

**A/N: Huntsman POV. Concurrent with part one, but more internal.**

* * *

He's been heartless a long while, now. _Too_ long. Queen Snow and King James have had their chances to defeat Regina once and for all. But they never take them. Instead, they send her back to her castle and luxuries and they make claims that she's not a Queen anymore but do _nothing_. He knows about the curse she plans, and if he believed in gods the way that most men do, he might pray for them to find a way to defeat her before it's cast. But he knows they won't. He knows more than anyone ever credits him with; he is a hunter, and observation is, by necessity, one of the most developed skills he has. And he knows that Snow and James are too merciful with the Queen to ever truly defeat her themselves.

If they had taken the chances they had to defeat Regina, he could have taken his heart back and freed the prisoners she keeps by now, Belle in her tower and the other nameless one in the dungeons below the castle. She plans to execute the nameless one in a few days, a useless showing that she still has power. Really, it is just cruelty. The woman once protected Snow and Regina would have killed her long ago if not for the fact that she'd been trying to get her to break and give her name, so that she knew who she was killing, so that the woman's family knew consequences. Apparently she was finally tired of waiting for that to happen, and with Snow back on a throne… _Consequences_ were the last thing she was trying to show now.

He knows all of these things, and that if he had his heart, he might be resentful. By all logic, he should be.

But he cannot _feel_ it. He cannot feel anything, no matter how he tries.

Until, under the Dark One's covert command, he steps into a tavern, and meets the eye of the strange woman traveling with the pirate. Regina claims the pirate must have betrayed her, and that he and the woman must be captured so that she can punish him.

But he is not as stupid as to believe it. Even if the pirate must be punished, his companion should not matter. But she's adamant that _both_ must be captured. She wants to interrogate the woman for some reason; _that reason_ he does not know.

What he knows, suddenly, is still processing even as she offers to serve him, is that- He _feels_. It is confusing and overwhelming, but so much that he should have felt over the last few years is all hitting him in her presence.

He is drowning, trying not to let the resentment and terror and regret and guilt tear him apart, when he realizes that she is somehow _familiar_, and that snaps him out of things.

It is those green eyes that pull his recognition first. Similar to Queen Snow's, but- But that is not it. She is familiar to him in some other way, something stronger. He looks over her, trying to understand. _Where does he know her from?_ It's not until his gaze registers the leather cord wrapped 'round her left wrist that it clicks in his mind.

He knows her because she is the woman of his dreams. Quite literally. He has dreamt of her. He has dreamt of _being with her_. Many, many times, though it is not often that he dreams, especially not since the loss of his heart and freedom. He has been dreaming of her since... Since before he can even recall. _Emma_. That is the name she has in his dreams.

He remembers a tale the ones who taught him the human tongue would tell, that dreams could be memories of other lives, or glimpses into the future. But he had never- Never believed he'd be lucky enough to encounter her. And is this truly a lucky meeting? She does have barely-hidden recognition in her eyes. But she- She does not act like she knows who he is, not even the obvious. She somehow does not fear him like the others all do.

Besides, even if she does- _Perhaps-_ Have the dreams the way he does – what can they do? He is missing his heart, and no matter how much he can actually feel around her, his attempting to leave Regina's service would be disastrous.

He can't fight the instinct to stop her when she leaves, though she's only off to bring him a drink, and though he has kept his cool and imparted the message she needed, he knows that if he does not leave, if he continues to interact with her, he will do something incredibly stupid.

So he slips out, taking a piece of parchment from the tavern's desk and quickly scrawling a message to meet him in the forest after closing - because he needs to understand this more fully but he _can't_ in public like this. He spots a young boy and gives him the parchment, pointing her out and asking that it be passed along.

And then he heads out to the forest, to wait, and see if she will come.


	3. Version 1, Part 3

**A/N: Back to Emma's POV. Version One, Part Three. Some Anti-Neal, as a fair warning (there was a lot more, I managed to cut a good deal of it because it was rather unnecessary, but not all). IDK if I'm happy about the piece as a whole, but for a one-page fic, this part alone was getting into the eight page range and that's a lot. Plus, I really wanted to move on to part four.**

**Oh and the kid that Graham gave the parchment to is a literary reference, anyone who catches what to will get virtual cookies.**

* * *

"Miss Anna?" It's the owner's son who catches her attention, using the false name she'd given. He is not much older than Henry, and he seems nervous.

"Yes, Jim?" she smiles gently, hoping to calm him. The room has started to clear, few people left in the tavern unless they're staying the night. She still hurts from Graham's sudden appearance and disappearance, the fact that she will likely never see him again acutely painful.

"Um…" he holds a piece of parchment out to her, "The- He asked me to give you this."

The boy's nerves make sense as she realizes that he means… Graham. She hesitates only a moment before taking the note, opening it up. _Forest behind the stables. Closing._ His handwriting is rough, unpracticed, but still recognizable from months of being Sheriff and going through his old files trying to organize them (trying to pretend she wasn't clinging to anything that might remind her of him).

"Thank you." She smiles at the boy again, this one a bit more genuine than the last. He wants to see her. It is pain, but- Every last moment she can get with him, she wants. She _needs_.

She is anxious for her chance to see him again, trying to mask her impatience even as the tavern's owner shows them to their rooms. Hook tries to ask about her encounter with Graham and the parchment she'd received; she pretends to be too tired to discuss it while thanking whatever power might be in the universe that her window is over a mass of ivy that she can climb down to get out without alerting anyone that she's left.

She needs to know what he wants, and she needs to see him again. Needs to figure out why their last brief meeting went so strangely.

The moon is near-full, incredibly bright, and she is surprised but not frightened when the familiar white wolf with bi-colored eyes steps out of the shadows. She kneels, holding out her hand for the wolf to sniff. It is gentle, bumping her softly in a way that she recognizes as asking her to pet it. It's almost as if… As if the wolf knows who she is. Which is just as ridiculous as the idea that Graham knows her, in this time, but… Maybe she's got it backwards. Maybe it doesn't seem like the wolf knows her now because of Storybrooke – it made her stay. Maybe it did that then because of this meeting now?

She is so caught up petting the wolf that she doesn't notice Graham step out of the shadows at first. When she finally does see him, he is staring at her and the wolf in disbelief, even _awe._ Similar to that last night, but- Even greater. It is not love, this time – it can't be. He doesn't know her. But it is something. She gives the wolf a few more scratches behind the ear for good measure before standing.

She doesn't know what she's expecting, and wants to be on guard – but this is Graham. She always trusted him more than she wanted to, and she can feel her heart begging her to trust him once more. But there's too much at stake here – it's not just her feelings. She can't mess with the timeline and so she cannot be too cautious. Not even with him. Even if he's already saved her parents, she still can't- Can't save him. Otherwise, they'll never meet. She'll never fall in love with him.

He closes some of the distance between them, looking at her curiously. She doesn't- Doesn't understand what's going on here, still. He doesn't know her, he can't. But- He doesn't _quite_ act like she's a stranger, either.

"It's not often the Dark One takes personal interest in someone that's rubbed the Queen wrong." Impossible as it feels, a part of her still knows him. That's not what he wants to talk about, not at all. But if that's how he wants to play it… She can afford to play along for a bit.

"And you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow, "How often do you take personal interest?"

"I don't." She's about to call him a liar, _knows_ what he did for her mother, _sees_ that he has interest here. But then he speaks again. "I fight her, as much as I can. But it's not out of any personal interest. It would be… Good… To see her defeated, to see this land freed from her. King James and Queen Snow act like she's no longer a threat, because of her exile. But she's just as dangerous as she always was."

She doesn't really want to believe what he's saying – but her lie detector isn't going off. _Exiled but just as dangerous as ever._ She's willing to bet that her mother was the one to have mercy on the Evil Queen, thinks she remembers from the book that they had the chance to execute Regina but couldn't go through with it. It's true to Mary Margaret's nature but seeing him, how the people treat him and what he'd said about _between Regina and the Dark One as to who could make him suffer more_, and having run from the black knights for so many days now – she can't help but to be bitter over it. She thought she could afford to play along, but this- Thinking like this is dangerous. She can't go down this path.

"You aren't here to talk about what the Dark One wants with me." She lets the accusation hang in the air for a moment. "What do you really want?"

He is silent for a moment, gaze washing over her again.

"Why do you look like her?" The question stuns her. She looks like someone? That's- She looks like Mary Margaret, she supposes, has her mother's eyes and chin. Is that what he means?

She's not sure, though, so she shakes her head slowly, starting the only answer she can give. "I don't know what you-"

"Why do you look like _Emma_?" He interrupts, and his change of wording nearly sends her into shock. She just barely manages not to gasp aloud. She _is_ Emma.

"How do you know my name?" Her eyes narrow into slits, a suspicious glare sent his way. She has to be cautious, has to think about the timeline, for Henry's sake. But something is wrong here. Something she needs to understand – and from the stunned look on his face, he needs to understand too.

He moves quickly, and suddenly she's backed up against one of the trees, him hovering over her. She's almost frightened. She can't be frightened of him, not really. But this is strange, unexpected. She doesn't know what's happening.

Their eyes are locked, and for what feels like an eternity, they're simply standing there, in silence, trying to understand. Then, slowly, his hand comes up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear almost reverently.

"I- I didn't think- I convinced myself it couldn't be you." His words confuse her further still, and it must be written on her face, because it only takes him a moment to let out a breath before he starts to speak once more. "There's an old story, I- I heard it when I was very young, from the ones who- Who taught me the human tongue. A story that- That dreams are- Memories of another life, or glimpses into what will be. I don't dream often. Hardly ever, anymore. But- You- I've dreamt of you my whole life, Emma."

"You've dreamt of me?" – but how is that possible? – "Of- Of us?"

He nods, fingers trailing down her jawline tantalizingly, making her shiver. "A strange world, not the forest. But us. Together. With- With pups."

"_Pups_?" she can barely believe her ears. None of this seems _real_.

"I mean- The human word is children, isn't it?" He sounds almost angry with himself for getting the word wrong, using the wolf term. She doesn't like it, he shouldn't be angry with himself. It's not his fault that he thinks in different terms; she knew what he meant. It's not a _problem_.

"I knew what you meant," she assures, tentatively reaching up to him – she shouldn't, she really shouldn't. But she cannot resist, she has missed him too much – "I was just- Surprised, that's all. I've had those dreams too."

It hurts, to admit it. But she does, she has to. She's had dreams of what could have been ever since she lost him. The kind of dreams she'd once thought she'd never have. Even- Even without her memories, she'd dreamt of him. Of them. Of the life they should've had. But- He's dreamt them too? He hasn't even met her yet! Or hadn't, before tonight. Whichever.

He seems to hesitate for a moment, like he has something to say but he isn't sure how – but then instead of saying anything he's kissing her, holding her as close as he can. It is surprising, to say the least. Still, after over a year without him, it is also sweet relief, and she easily returns the kiss. She wraps her arms around him, avoiding the spot she knows is empty, where she will feel no soothing beat if she tries. That will only make this hurt more.

"I don't-" His breathing is ragged as he pulls away, "Why- Why now? When there is no way we can be?"

"Cruel fate," she bites the words out, _hating_ that she is going to lose him once more. No matter how much time they get now – and it will never be enough, never – they will be parted. She will return to a world where he is dead while he returns to a life where she is not yet born and he is miserable under Regina's iron grip, where he- He will find her again, it's true. But they will have hardly any time together before he dies. He won't even _know_ what- What they were meant to have.

"Cruel would be if we never met." Another kiss, more hesitant this time, his lips barely brushing hers before it's done. "You make me feel, Emma. You make me want. Cruel is life without you."

"Life you know you'll have to return to," she reminds, cursing the tears she feels building behind her eyes. "Don't tell me that's not cruel. That the dreams wouldn't be better if-"

"If I didn't know you were real? That's how I've _been_ living. But now I- Now I know that- That if she's ever defeated, I will have a chance to find you again."

She inhales sharply, burying her face in his neck, breathing in his soothing and familiar scent. He is so strangely hopeful because of this, and it _hurts_. He doesn't know what she knows. That because of her, Regina will kill him. That he won't live to see the Evil Queen defeated, and that everyone else has welcomed her with open arms even after everything she did. Her own _mother_, one of Regina's biggest victims, sides with the Evil Queen over her.

"What's wrong?" He must sense her distress, because he's stroking back her hair soothingly and she can't- She can't tell him the truth.

"I'm not from here. I'm from a different world, a land without magic. I'm only here because of- A complete accident. The pirate's taking me back, once we can find a way. I won't be here, when she's- When you get your freedom. Tonight is- Tonight is all we have." All half-truths. She is from here. But… She's also from the Land Without Magic. More from there than here, in spite of where she was born. It _is_ an accident that she's here in the past, and Hook _is_ traveling with her in their quest to find a way back. She will be there, though, when he gets his freedom – sort of. She will be there when he finally breaks away from Regina, at least. And while for her, tonight is all they have – he has their entire relationship ahead of him, fleeting and hardly even a _relationship_ though it was.

"You're- A land without magic?" He sounds thoughtful, not disbelieving, and she quickly tries to put together everything that she knows about when she is. Hook said that his past self being in Wonderland means they're only a few months before the curse. So Graham- He must know what's coming, at least something of it. At least the smallest details, like the land without magic. "Emma- _Emma._ The Queen is planning- She's going to cast a curse, it will take everyone to the land without magic. And- All curses can be broken. It's one of the basics of magic. Just because you're going back there- That doesn't mean we'll never see each other again."

_Oh_. He thought- He thought that he'd find her after the curse was broken. Must still think that's an option, because even if she finds her way home, he'll eventually be in the other world. It is not just an ache in her heart any longer; it is _killing_ her to hear his hopes. Somehow, however he's had these dreams- He _believes_. In _them_. _Strongly_. In a way that she can tell he doesn't believe in anything else. She can't tell him the truth and she knows she can't bring herself to break his heart, to lie and tell him that she doesn't want him – not that he'd believe her, after her admission about the dreams, and certainly not after that kiss that she can still feel in her every nerve.

She wants to discourage him, make him accept that this night is their only chance. But she cannot tell him the truth – which is too fantastic to be believed, anyway. And she wants to be with him, in every way he'll allow. She is _the Savior_, but he is _her Savior_. The reason she is alive and the reason she stayed in Storybrooke beyond that first week for Henry and the reason she believes in _True Love_.

"You don't think you'll be returned here once it's broken?" It is the only thing she can think of that is a practical concern, that doesn't indicate she knows anything of the curse itself.

"I said she's casting it. She didn't create it herself. The Dark One did. She has a prisoner, Belle – that woman knows the Dark One better than anyone else. She told me that everything he does has purpose. If he created a curse to send us to that world, then he wants to be in that world for some reason. It would be useless if the curse breaking took him right back out of that world." _Observant_. Then, she should've expected that much. This is Graham, after all, and she might've teased him about observing the fact that she'd stayed in town – but she knew that he could be properly observant when he had to be, like when David woke up from his coma.

"Well then… Maybe we will have a someday." She fakes a smile as she tells the lie. It is agony, tearing her heart in two. But she can think of nothing else to say, no way to combat his logic without giving away the truth.

Those eyes search her like she can provide answers to all of life's mysteries, and then without warning, lips meet hers once more, hands move to unlace her corset. And she _wants_ this, so much, cannot even _think_ to protest, but then he has broken the kiss and moved away and- He looks _ashamed_.

"I'm sorry, Emma- I- I didn't mean to- Act improperly-" _Act improperly?_ She cannot help but laugh aloud, a genuine smile making its way across her face.

"I happen to be an expert at acting improperly," she reaches out, taking his hands. Stands on tiptoes and gives him a gentle kiss, "I have a son."

"A son?"

She's not sure what that tone in his voice is. There's curiosity there, she can tell that much. But there's more, too.

"Henry. He's 12."

"And-" he swallows audibly, "You love his father?"

Oh. _Oh_. He is worried that his place in her heart is-

"I used to. But he left me, a long time ago." She doesn't want to go into it all now, can't go into it all now. But- "I hadn't started dreaming of you, yet. I'd never had a home. And he- He promised me one." She knew now exactly how naïve she'd been, could see some of the little moments that should have concerned her more at the time, the way he'd just been planning on leaving her, how she'd had to convince him to let her help with the watches. Something had been rotten all along, but she'd been blinded by feeling like she belonged, like someone actually cared about her for the first time in her life since the Swans gave her back.

Tallahassee never was home, though. New York was, with her false memories. Storybrooke… Sometimes, it did feel like it. It was where her family was, after all. But other times… Something was missing. Or- _Someone_ was missing. _Him_.

Even though she's certain he'll understand, she casts her eyes downwards as she explains. Keeps them low, waiting a moment that feels forever for his response.

Hands come to cup her face, and she feels his eyes searching her once more.

"He took advantage of you." His words are half-statement, half-question, and she looks up, meeting dark blues that look so, so sad. He said she makes him feel but- She did not expect this, this… Sadness. For her.

"Yes." It's more complicated than that, for certain. But he had taken advantage of her. She had trusted him with her heart and her hopes and he'd known that and he'd abandoned her without a word. When they met again, he'd told her he hadn't had a choice, that he'd left for her own good, to get her home. But bitter words about _never would have gone near you if I knew_ ring through her head and she knows that he was trying to paint himself in a better light. That was what he _did_. She'd been learning to tolerate him, for Henry's sake, and maybe be friends – but love for Neal was long gone, or as close to long gone as first love could ever be. Even if he'd lived, trust never would have come back.

Graham's arms are around her again, holding her close once more.

"I- I didn't even know who my parents were, at the time." Maybe she shouldn't be telling this part of the story. It's too close to the curse and the things Graham cannot know. But- It feels _good_ to have someone to talk to about this, someone who'll actually listen. "But he found out. And he knew that if I ever found them, he'd have to face his dad, who was close to them. So he-"

A low growl from Graham interrupts her, and she pulls back to see the sadness for her has been replaced by anger, _so much anger_. She can almost see that side of him she couldn't before, the wolfish assassin. And it's- It's directed at Neal. Over her. And he- He doesn't even know – yet – about her having given birth in jail, about having to give Henry up, about Henry being raised by _Regina_. He doesn't know about the worst parts of it all and- He is still this angry? Angrier than she ever even imagined he could be?

"Hey," she uses the word gently to catch his attention, hands moving to cup his face, "It's in the past–" and the irony of _that_ statement is not lost on her – "it doesn't matter now."

She kisses him again, hoping to convey that- That _he _is the one she wants - and when she pulls back she sees that he has calmed considerably, his expression sad rather than angry again.

"You don't deserve to have been hurt that way," he murmurs, fingers tangling in her hair as he rests his forehead against hers.

"It doesn't matter now," she repeats firmly, shaking her head, "My son is one of the best things that ever happened to me. And now- Now I know you're real, too." She has no other reassurances to give, as much as it hurts her to say it, to lie to him like this. She knew that he was real already. But- The only thing she can do is play along with his hopes. _Can't change the past._

"And your son–"

"Would _love_ you as a father. I promise." Graham _was_ the closest thing Henry had to a father, for a long time. This isn't a lie. Not with how upset Henry had been when- Not when he'd wanted to stop trying to break the curse because of Graham's death.

"Most- Most would not want me near their children."

"I am not _most_. I don't care what anyone else thinks of you."

"You don't know who I am," he shakes his head sadly. But, of course- She knows exactly who he is. "The things I've done-"

"And you don't know who I am, either." Perhaps not the best argument, with her inability to tell him the truth. But… "We all do things we're not proud of, things we regret. Sometimes we don't have a choice. We can't let that define us. You are not the things you've done. When you- When you make your choices, do you try to do what's right?"

"When I have a choice."

"Then _that's_ who you are. A good man." He needs to know that. That not everyone sees him as some– Some _monster_, something to be scared of. She knows he needs that, having seen how everyone reacted to him earlier. "Do you understand?"

There's a moment's hesitation, and then he's nodding, and she's so, _so_ glad she got through to him.

"And- What do you choose, Emma?" His voice is soft and she knows he doesn't- Doesn't mean it the way that Killian and Neal did, before. Because she- She has more than proven already tonight that he is her choice. Or she hopes she has, anyway, because she doesn't know how else to make it clear and won't have another chance.

"I choose my son." Henry is her choice, always. But it's more complicated than that, and she continues. "I choose you- I do. And I do hope we can have a someday. But- But for now, all we have is tonight. Because I also choose my son. Because I have to get back to him. He needs me."

"Loyalty to your family," his lips quirk into a smile, "Admirable."

"I want you to be a part of that family." She barely whispers the words, quiet in her confession because it is such a very big thing to say. Even though she is scared, she fights it back. He deserves to know. And if she doesn't tell him now...

"I would be honored."

She still aches with the knowledge of the truth, but a smile finds her as he pulls her flush once more. They might not have the forever that she wishes for desperately, but they do have this night.

That will have to do.


	4. Version 1, Part 4

**A/N: Graham's POV again.**

* * *

It's strange, he thinks, holding Emma close. Strange for so many reasons. But of course the strangest is the obvious, the fact that… He never thought he'd… Never thought that he'd mean anything to anyone, and she- She wants him to be a part of her _family_.

She is not yet asleep, but he sees her eyes drooping. "Emma… You should get back to your room. So you- So you're there in the morning."

She sits up, stretching. Leans in, kissing him – she is his paradise, her lovely golden strands cascading over them, shielding them from the world. She makes him feel _safe_, in a way that he never has. It is like- With her, even Regina cannot harm him.

"Come back with me? For a while?" she murmurs, her voice so sad he cannot stand it. He runs his fingers through her hair, considering. He is not expected back until the morrow's sunset, at the latest; he has the time to spend with her.

"If they find me there in the morning…" He's not sure if the reactions will be worse because of his mere presence in the room of a woman to whom he is unwed, a woman who is certainly not _for hire_… Or his identity. It is a burden that he has always felt, but with the infamy gained since his heart was lost, it is- It is miles worse.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want. I just- I'd like to fall asleep in your arms."

She sounds… She sounds almost _desperate._ It is incomprehensible. She is such a strong woman, beautiful and brave, stuck in a strange world and fighting to make her way home despite it all. Yet she… She seems so _vulnerable_ in this moment, and it is… Because of him.

"Alright," he agrees after a beat; he has never wanted anything as much as he wants never to let her go again. He will have to let her go, they've already discussed that. But… That doesn't mean he has to let go _yet_.

He helps her as she dresses, since the layers of clothing would be near-impossible to get back into her room unworn. Pulls on his some of his own clothes, leaving most of his armor in the forest. He'll need to come back for it, when he leaves her. But for now, he follows Emma back to the tavern, up strong ivy and into the small and empty room.

Soon, they are lying there, her head on his shoulder, their arms wrapped around each other. He presses a kiss to her forehead as she brings herself closer to him, impossibly close. It would be perfection to stay this way forever, or to stay in the woods with her forever. Perhaps someday. After the curse. Once they are both in her world, the… Land Without Magic.

He will have to be gone when she wakes, this time. But he knows he will find her again. And then… And then they will be able to be together. He _knows_. His pack, that has always been his everything. And she is _more_ than just his pack. She is his _mate_. He'd never expected to have a mate. Yet… He does. _Emma_.

"I love you." She- She sounds _sad_, to admit it. Sad, and scared.

"And I love you," he returns gently, lips brushing across hers quickly. He has always been more for action that words. But… He can tell she needs them, this once.

The smile that he gets in response is weak, at best. He needs to get her mind off of- Whatever it is that she's thinking of.

"You said- You said that you didn't know who your parents were- But you do now?" He asks mostly because he… He never knew his parents. It seems a way they might possibly be similar, and he is curious.

"I thought- I thought they abandoned me, on the side of the road. I grew up without them. Turns out, they were- Protecting me."

"Protecting you?"

"They're- Well, they're royalty." She seems reluctant to admit this, and he- He is certainly surprised to hear it. Not because he does not think Emma could be a princess, but- For a princess to choose him? It is even more surprising than _anyone_ having chosen him at all. And he does not have the best experience with royals, the Queen using him the ways she does and Snow and James forgetting his existence after he saved them both. "They had enemies who wanted to kill me, even as- Even as a newborn. So, they sent me away. It was my guardian who abandoned me."

He tightens his hold on her, a wish to protect her from harms long past sudden and consuming. There is nothing can be done, now, and that- That makes him feel guiltier than it should. "And- Your boy's father. You said- He left you because of his own father?"

"A… Royal advisor, I guess is the best term."

He wonders, now, how her apparently royal family will welcome him when they are reunited in her world. He has less status than any peasant, can bring nothing to her kingdom. Surely her parents would arrange a match sooner than allow their daughter to choose a… A wolf turned slave from another realm. He has nothing, _is_ nothing, and that isn't likely to change.

"I suppose the pirate is helping you for a portion of the family fortune."

Emma- She hesitates before shaking her head. "No. There's- Someone in that world that he wants revenge on." It is strange- It feels like both a lie and the truth at once. But… She won't be paying her own ransom, from the sounds of it, the _no _was certainly true, which is a good thing.

"Be careful. He broke into the tower, tried to kill one of the Queen's prisoners when she wouldn't give him information."

"I'll be careful," she nods, yawning as she settles herself into his embrace even further.

"Good." He falls silent, in order to allow her to fall asleep. He knows that she will keep the promise to be careful. He trusts her. She has done well in the forest for days now, is clearly adept at taking care of herself.

A few moments pass, perfect silence, and then- "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you as well, Emma." Their impending separation is saddening, for certain. Worse still, he knows that during the curse, however long it takes, he will not even have memories of her to give him hope. She doesn't need to know that, doesn't need to know that he doesn't even know how long it will be before they see each other again or how the curse might break.

He is trying his hardest to hold onto hope, for her. Though without her he will not be able to feel it, and it should not matter – when she said things like they only had this night, she had seemed so _hopeless_, and he cannot help but want her to believe. And he knows that if he tells her… Those details will destroy what little hope he had managed to instill in her.

He runs his fingers through her hair, an attempt to soothe, and slowly her eyes close and her breathing steadies. Once he is certain that she is asleep, he extracts himself from her, though reluctant. He heads for the window they'd entered through, and as he sits on the sill he looks back to her fondly.

"Goodbye, Emma," he whispers, though he knows she cannot hear, "Until we meet again."


End file.
